A Father's Love
by Liv Wilder
Summary: Set during 4x01: Rise. Castle strode past the diner's long bank of windows as quickly as his legs would take him. A bead of sweat trickled down the middle of his back despite the cool of the evening. He was desperate to get inside. Kate's father had called him not a half hour ago and he couldn't get there fast enough.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This story came out of a photo sent to me by a dear friend as a prompt. Thank you for the gift of inspiration, my dear. That photo is the cover art for the story. Set at the time of 4x01: "Rise." Five chapters, all complete, each one posted daily.

* * *

 _A Father's Love_

 _Chapter 1_

Castle strode past the diner's long bank of windows as quickly as his legs would take him. A bead of sweat trickled down the middle of his back despite the cool of the evening. He was desperate to get inside. Kate's father had called him not a half hour ago and he couldn't get there fast enough. Seemed 'Beckett' was one name that held a power over Richard Castle that, to this day, he didn't quite understand.

When Jim had called him out of the clear blue, Castle had responded in the manner of "how high would you like me to jump, sir?" It had pathetic, Pavlovian overtones, he recognized. But he was too anxious to find out why Mr. Beckett had thought to call him of all people to look any deeper into his own psyche before agreeing to the man's request. He immediately promised the lawyer that he would meet him at this old school diner Jim Beckett suggested on the corner of 73rd and 3rd, known as E.J.'s Luncheonette.

He skidded to a halt as he passed the second to last window. Jim was seated at a booth inside, his wiry frame bent over a half-eaten dish of some kind. He was sporting a baseball cap and a well-worn plaid shirt. He looked at ease, but very much alone. The scene had all the visual hallmarks and the lonely detachment of an Edward Hopper painting. It was as beautiful as it was sad; the lighting a mournful wash of blue, the old framed poster from the nineteen-forties of a red-lipped vamp that exclaimed, "Love that cherry pie," the cold isolation of the subject being viewed from the busy, connected world outside. Castle paused to soak in these details, and then he hurried for the entrance before Jim caught him standing there staring in through the glass like an unhinged moron.

" _Stop staring, Castle. It's creepy,"_ he heard the phantom Beckett say inside his head and, not for the first time that day, he felt his heart contract at the mere thought of his injured partner, currently laid up in a hospital bed. He missed her so much.

Castle's leather soled-shoes skidded on the greasy linoleum as he rushed towards Jim Beckett's booth. He caught himself on the high divider between tables before he went sliding on past or hit the deck. He was out of breath and probably disheveled but Jim didn't seem to notice. He just dabbed his mouth with a paper napkin as he stood to shake the writer's hand and then motioned for Castle to take a seat on the opposite side of the table.

Jim pushed the plate containing the remains of his cherry pie to one side. The filling oozed like blood spatter against the white porcelain and Castle had to look away, forcing himself to focus on the older man's face instead.

Without any preamble, Jim began to talk. His voice was quiet and dry, it had undertones of defeat and exhaustion, of battles fought and lost. Castle listened, captivated.

"We're leaving tomorrow. I'm supposed to sign her out of the hospital at ten o'clock in the morning. Against doctor's advice, wouldn't you know. But that's Katie for you. Stubborn as an old mule."

Jim Beckett looked worn out, too. The lines on his face had deepened and his skin was an unhealthy shade of gray that came from too little time spent outdoors, too many sleepless nights lying in bed worrying, and not enough nutritious food. Castle, intimately acquainted with identical ailments in his own personal life, immediately had the urge to invite him back to the loft and cook for him, to fatten him up and force him to rest. But then that wasn't why he had shown up to this meeting. And more than anything, he needed to know what exactly he was doing here at nine o'clock on a weekday night.

"And you think I can help how?" he asked Kate's father. "She isn't even speaking to me. She promised she'd call in a couple of days when I first went to visit her in the hospital. But it's been over a week and a half and… _nothing_ ," Castle lamented, being open with Jim Beckett in a way that he never would dare with the man's daughter, and even then only because he was getting desperate for answers by this point.

Jim let his hand fall to the table and it landed palm down on the surface with a bit of a slap. "Go in my place. Make her see sense. Please."

Castle balked at the idea the instant he began to process. "Let me get this straight. You want _me_ to talk _Kate Beckett_ —" He paused a moment, trying to tamp down his disbelief so as not to offend her father. Then he took a breath and began over again. "No offense, sir…but you think _I_ can talk her into staying there against her wishes? _Why?_ "

Jim remained patiently quiet, watching his request soak in, waiting for the moment he hoped Castle would turn what at first seemed like an impossibility into a challenge he couldn't refuse. If he knew the man like he thought he did from all the stories his daughter had shared with him over the last couple of years then his patience would pay off. Eventually, it would pay off.

But Castle laughed, his amusement hardened to brittle by his incredulity. "What about _Josh?_ He's a doctor. Can't he intervene on medical grounds? Talk some sense into her? I don't know, maybe play the concerned boyfriend card for once. Hell, put her on a psyche hold if he has to?"

Jim made a ' _pfff'_ sound of dismissal and calmly waved those ideas aside in favor of cutting to the chase. "I know how you feel about her, son. We all heard it plain as day. Though you'd have to be a blind fool not to have seen it before," he added as a surprise addendum.

Castle sat up straight and then he leaned in. "I— Wait. You…you _heard me_ tell your daughter that I—"

"That you love her, yes." Jim stated plainly. "Everyone within earshot heard you, including a few of the recently interred I would venture."

Castle suddenly felt icy cold. "When I visited her, Kate told me she remembered nothing about the shooting."

"Yeah, well, I hate to inform on my own daughter, Rick, but I think you'll find that's less than truthful."

Castle frowned and stared down at the tabletop, fingertips dancing nervously on the laminated surface. "How…how do you know this?"

Even as he asked the question he found that he was actually fearful of the answer.

"Katie has a tendency to make poor choices some of the time. She thinks she's doing the world a favor by putting herself last. The two things rarely balance out."

Seemed a gift for subtext was a skill learned by the child at her father's knee. But the very last thing Castle needed right now was subtext of any kind.

"But you know this for certain?" Castle pressed for clarity's sake, since it was too important a point on which to be blurry. "She _definitely_ heard me and she remembers?"

Jim nodded. "Talked to her about it myself."

"So why did she lie?" Even the words hurt.

"You'll have to ask her about that, son."

"But if you were to hazard a guess at least? I don't want to be working with one hand tied behind my back here. _If_ I do this," he added as a caveat.

"I'd say she's scared. Shooting gave her one helluva fright. She's always been so darned independent. Needing help to take care of herself is her worst nightmare. My guess, were I to make one, she doesn't want to be a burden."

Castle was appalled. "She could never be a burden. Not to me."

Jim saw his moment and went in for the kill.

"Then show up at that hospital tomorrow, ten a.m. sharp, and don't take no for an answer."


	2. Chapter 2

_A Father's Love_

 _Chapter 2_

After leaving Jim Beckett in the diner, Castle walked for several blocks in a daze before crossing Lexington to reach Park and a cab ride home.

His body functioned on automatic while his brain ran into overdrive, processing all he that had just learned and replaying the personal request made by Kate's father over and over.

He had lived in a sea of confusion ever since he'd been to see his partner in the hospital, the one and only time he'd been able to visit her. He had arrived at her bedside that day with heart stopping nerves and an excited hope as to what she might say to him in the wake of his desperate, impulsive graveside confession, only to have to leave the hospital mere minutes later with a hollowed out feeling of disappointment after discovering that she had no memory of the event at all, and worse than that: she was dismissing him. He left that day all out of options. He had no more cards to play.

His expectations had been romantically outrageous, optimism of stratospheric proportions, he was later able to recognize. This was Kate Beckett after all, he had reminded himself in the dark solitude of his bedroom, and nothing with her ever came easily. To expect her to fall into his arms, to profess her love in return, especially with her surgeon boyfriend hovering out in the hallway, had been stupid and naive and went against everything he'd learned about her over the years of his shadowing. He cursed his own baseless optimism and vowed to think harder before he acted on impulse in future.

But just when could he tell her now, he had wondered, as he'd travelled back home from her bedside in a haze of despondency that day? When might another opportunity arise where he might let her see how deeply he felt for her? He tormented himself with these questions while feeling stupidly over-dressed in his smart, black suit. He felt like a man who had gone down on one knee and proposed with a flashy diamond ring, only to be turned down with no explanation beyond the word "no."

One thing was certain: he couldn't wait for her to be almost taken from him again to let her know how he felt. That cowardly path only promised a lifetime of regret and sorrow. While waiting for a second chance, he'd bide his time, use his head, he'd be there for her when she let him. _If_ she ever let him. Patience was the only way forward for now.

So he had thrown himself into her case. Firstly, driven by the need to solve, hunt down and protect, while actually doing something to take his mind off the relentless ticking of the clock. Second of all, he was compelled by the need to be where he felt closest to her. If he couldn't actually be by her side then he worked long hours at her desk in the hope of a phone call. He made coffee after coffee and drank it from her favorite mug. He ignored the pitying looks the boys gave him when he checked his phone every half hour for texts, missed calls, and eventually to see that the battery hadn't died, the ringer turned off or the signal gone down.

He missed her every single second. He missed her more than he ever had, in fact, because his access had suddenly been cut off, and not by a captain intent on enforcing departmental rules or by a changing of the guard in the Mayor's office. He'd been cut loose by Kate herself, and unless he went against her wishes and just showed up at her hospital bed or called her himself and demanded an explanation for her silence, then this unremitting hole that had opened up in his chest would remain open, interminably.

And then Jim Beckett had phoned, offering a solution to all his woes. It wasn't exactly permission from Kate, but this request from her father was the next best thing. Furthermore, it was all that seemed to be on offer right now. If he wanted a chance to be back in her life, this was it.

* * *

When he arrived home from his meeting with Jim, he stripped for bed while churning these thoughts over in his mind. He shed his clothes in an untidy heap that missed his hamper by a country mile. He failed to notice until he tripped over the leg of his jeans, cursing when he almost took a header into the wall. He blew out a breath, calmed himself down and then went straight to the bathroom to brush his teeth.

Later, alone in the dark, he lay still, staring up at the ceiling. His plantation shutters cast a pattern like prison bars above his head. How had he failed to notice this before? He got up and closed them, sparing himself a new nightmare, since his back catalog of oldies but goodies was stuffed fuller than a Blockbuster Video horror section right now.

He couldn't write another word as much as he couldn't stop looking into Kate's case or thinking about her minute by minute. He certainly couldn't walk away now, no matter how long it took for her to call him. Her fingerprints were all over his life just as his could be found all over hers. The sad fact of the matter was that he wouldn't have it any other way.

Around three, he flicked on the bedside lamp, struggled to a sitting position and reached for his cell phone. He had Kate's dad's number saved in his contacts list. This was a development he couldn't quite believe. He felt slightly duplicitous, as if he and Jim were crafting a plan for Kate's life without her knowledge. Which, in actual fact, _was_ what they were doing. He hated deceit. As soon as she found out, he knew she would be furious, probably with him most of all. Blood was thicker than water for sure, especially at times like this. And she had favored him as a convenient target for her anger in the past, an easy mark for her blame, maybe her fear.

" _Yeah, well, last time I checked, it was my life, not your personal jungle gym. And for the past three years, I have been running around with the school's funniest kid, and it's not enough."_

Her words still stung like a slap all these weeks later. But right now, he'd forgive her just about anything for another chance to talk, to look into her eyes and have her tell him that she had heard him and she either did or did not feel the same way. He'd take that gamble just to know for certain that his imagination wasn't overruling his instincts, and that his heart hadn't outfoxed his head. Intuition told him that she cared deeply, that their attraction to one another was just that: mutual. He was sure of it, but at this point, he simply had no proof.

He thumbed his phone screen, called up Jim Beckett's contact details and tapped out a text.

 _10am tomorrow. I'll be there. No promises. Rick_

The speed with which a reply arrived told him a lot about Jim Beckett's tender state of mind. Just after three in the morning and the guy was still awake. He wondered if Kate had any idea the level of concern she caused to those who loved her.

 _Appreciate it, son. Don't let her scare you off and don't take no for an answer. Her bark is worse than her bite._

Castle had just finished reading the text message and was on the point of returning his phone to the nightstand when it chirped for a second time.

His heart started hammering. This time Jim's text simply said:

 _You should probably know that the doctor's gone. Jim_

Castle tempered the surge of optimism that flared on learning this nugget of information. He wondered what it could mean – for her and for him. Was she simply shedding everyone from her life that she might end up becoming a burden to or was there more to the severing of her relationship with the good Doctor Davidson?

He fell asleep fifteen minutes later, counting large caliber bullets bouncing on a concrete floor. He woke in a cold sweat three hours after that, the beginnings of a scream caught in his parched throat. He hoped to God he was doing the right thing for all their sakes. One wrong move now and he could lose Kate Beckett for good.


	3. Chapter 3

_A Father's Love_

 _Chapter 3_

His shirt was brand new, midnight blue and probably far too dressy for daylight hours, with those generic, fresh-from-the-box creases cross-hatching front and back. He tempered his look with faded black jeans and a pair of brown loafers that were lightly scuffed at the toe.

The fact that Beckett was in so much pain she would have trouble breathing in and out, let alone appreciating the effort he'd gone to to dress for her, passed Castle by in his angst to appeal to her better side. This was the side that he suspected – or at least hoped – liked him more than she'd ever dared let on. Whenever he'd worn a blue shirt in the past - and he had a whole closet full by now - he'd noticed that her gaze lingered longer than normal on his chest or his cuff or his collar. He had watched her lashes flicker as she color matched the shade of his shirt against the blue of his eyes. He'd counted the seconds she gave blue over, say, the deep maroon he also liked to wear, and blue was the hands down winner every time. So if he was going to be a winner today, blue it would be and maybe some of the old Castle magic would come back to help him achieve the impossible.

In the kitchen, he juggled an orange juice and a slice of toast that made him want to gag in a vain attempt to appear normal in front of his daughter.

"What's with the getup, dad?" Alexis teased. Her teenage face looked happier than it had in weeks to see him up and dressed before noon. He felt a sharp pang of guilt when he realized that this was the reason for his daughter's appreciable mood change. "Got a date?" she asked, nudging him. "You look pretty sharp."

"Thanks," he mumbled, quickly burying his head in the New York Times to avoid any further scrutiny or an in-depth interrogation from those milky blue eyes, under whose innocent gaze he perpetually found himself unable to lie.

But he failed to throw her off the scent and she grabbed the broadsheet and pulled the front down, popping her moon-face over the top. "You didn't answer my question. Who is she, _pater_? Do I know this lucky lady?" she needled him, playfully.

Castle sighed and closed the newspaper. He refolded it along the original creases and laid it down on the counter. She would find out sometime, however this played out. Better she hear it from him than anyone else, he reasoned.

He clasped his hands and squeezed them together, fortifying himself. "Actually, I'm going to visit Beckett at the hospital this morning." He tried to keep his voice light, delivering this information as more of a routine statement than an announcement of any real import.

But Alexis was a smart girl and she would not be fooled so easily.

" _Oh."_ Her face fell faster than a rock down a well. "Why?"

He watched her chin jut out towards him in defiance, asking a question in that impertinent tone they knew not to use with one another because they had a civilized father-daughter relationship.

"Why?" he repeated, calmly, to buy himself some thinking time. "Because she's my partner."

"Isn't she ignoring you?"

Children could wound like no other when they wanted, with the simplest of questions in the plainest of language.

"She's…recovering."

"And isn't she with that Doctor Davidson anyway?" Alexis added, her face going red while she stared him out, determined to make her point no matter how out of line she might be. "He must be taking good care of her."

Castle resisted the urge to gloat or to take offense at his daughter's spiteful tone. "Not anymore."

"What does that mean?"

Castle blew out a long, slow breath. "Look, Beckett's dad has asked me to help out. She wants to leave the hospital against the advice of her doctors..."

"When?"

"Today." Castle jaw ticked as he ground his back teeth together just thinking about the sheer insanity of Beckett's plan.

"And he thinks she'll listen to _you?_ " Alexis snorted, rolling her eyes to show that he was clearly crazy to think so.

Castle kept his cool. Ignoring her lack of respect, since now was not the time to agree with his perceptive offspring. "Apparently so."

"Why you? Why does it have to be you?" She began to sound more fearful and desperate than angry, and Castle sighed, knowing that fear was at the root of all of this, hurtful or not.

"I… _care_ about Kate, Alexis. You know I do. She's in a bad place right now. Her dad asked for my help," he shrugged one-shouldered. "I don't think she'll listen but I'm happy to try because that's what you do for the people you love. You help them even when they push you away. _Especially_ when they're scared."

He looked at her pointedly, but she missed his meaning or chose to ignore it, seizing on a fact that she found way more horrifying.

"You _love_ her?" His daughter seemed appalled by this prospect.

Castle nodded anyway, no point hiding it anymore if what Jim Beckett had said was true.

"But she has… _had_ a _boyfriend_."

"Pumpkin, love isn't a switch. We don't just turn it on and off at will. And we don't always get to choose who we fall in love with either."

Castle rued the day his mother became the closest thing Alexis had to a female role model, a good example of how to 'love em' and leave em' with your head held high.' His own track record was shot to hell, come to that. But he continued with his advice because this was a teachable moment and wasn't that what being a parent was all about – ignoring your own failures for a series of teachable moments, haplessly illustrated by sound bites and snappy aphorisms you'd appropriated from some twenty-something's lifestyle blog?

She'd only ignore him anyway. So he took a deep breath and carried on messaging.

"Sometimes we love the wrong people for the right reasons and the right people for the wrong reasons. But following your heart is never a bad thing. You just have to learn to trust yourself so you don't get hurt." God he was a terrible parent sometimes.

"Dad, you sound like Oprah," Alexis said, dismissively, and he found himself strangely proud of her talent for sniffing out his B.S. "And you think she isn't gong to hurt you? You almost _died_ because of her."

He reached for both of his daughter's hands and grasped them in his own, forcing her to give him her full attention. The girl was shaking. "Alexis, _none_ of this is her fault. Do you hear me? None of it. Someone tried to kill her. Can you imagine how that must feel? She needs our support, our help. If I know Kate Beckett, and by God I do, she'll be blaming herself enough for everyone right now."

Alexis finally nodded and dropped her head, more to keep the peace than because she actually agreed with anything her dad had just said. At least this doomed mission had put a spring in his step. The moping routine had gotten really old incredibly fast. It would be good to have her old dad back, even if that came at the cost of having the injured detective in tow.

"You really love her?" Alexis asked, and when Castle nodded and smiled she tapped into her better nature to try and help her father if she could. "Right, then what's the big plan?" she asked, grabbing a notepad and a pen.


	4. Chapter 4

_A Father's Love_

 _Chapter 4_

Castle paced the hospital lobby. Back and forth in front of the elevator bank he went, trying to summon a plan, a speech, anything that might persuade Kate Beckett to stay in that hospital bed a little longer. Until her doctors thought it was safe for her to leave, as least.

Jim Beckett had shared Kate's crazy plan – for him to pack a few things at her apartment and then drive her up to their family cabin in the woods and, after a couple of days spent keeping her company, just leave her to the wolves, fending for herself. Okay, Jim hadn't said anything about wolves, but Castle was a writer so he saw it as his duty to embellish.

His plan could not be any worse, any more hare-brained and irresponsible than that, surely? If he had one it wouldn't be, of that much he was certain.

But then his loafers squeaked on the vinyl tiles as he stepped aboard and his brain felt compressed as the elevator rose, and the lights were too bright in the corridor of the Surgical ICU and the curtain was pulled back from behind the glass in the door to Kate's room and then…and then…thump, thump, thump…his heart was pounding...

And, finally, there she was, sitting… _actually sitting_ in the armchair beside the bed. She was sitting there facing an empty bed as if visiting herself, and he had no plan and she was staring at him as if he was the last person on earth that she had expected to see, maybe ever again.

"Castle?" she croaked.

Her question startled him, and he stuffed his shaking, sweating hands inside his jacket pockets.

"Uh, hi, Beckett. Hey. You look—"

"Like, shit. I know," she snapped, spiky with self-loathing and impatience already, and oh God, he had no plan.

"I was going to say better, actually."

She snorted and he flinched inside. Her dad was going to kill him. Actually, no, it was a lot worse than that. Because Jim Beckett would be kind, he knew his own daughter, so he would be kind and try to hide his disappointment. But Castle would have failed him anyway, and for some reason he never wanted to fail that man. So having Jim be kind to him was a million times worse than snapping, or berating him for his failure, could ever be.

"You're a terrible liar."

"I— _What?_ " Castle blinked, trying to pull himself out of his spiraling run of thoughts to focus on Kate.

"The bathroom has a mirror, Castle. I know how bad I look."

"Right," he said, distractedly, while his brain warred with bigger issues than how "put together" you should actually look a few weeks on from taking a bullet to the chest.

"You don't have to agree with me. Feel free to lie." His partner's string of contradictions zipped back and forth across the room, as confusing and rapid as any bullets he might have to dodge if ever caught in a crossfire, again.

Crossfire: that's what this felt like.

In that instant, he realized that none of this would go right. He would say black, she would argue white, he would fail in his mission. Might as well call her dad now and admit that he wasn't up to the task, end his own misery before Beckett figured him out and gutted him like a fish.

He withdrew his phone from his pocket.

"What exactly are you doing here anyway?" Beckett interceded before he could make his excuses and retire to the corridor to summon Jim Beckett in his place, wave his little white flag of cowardice and surrender.

"Uh—" He raised his phone and waggled it a little.

"You just got here and now you urgently have to make a call?"

She seemed pissed. He couldn't tell if that was because he was here or because he was here and now he planned on ignoring her for the next few minutes. Her contrariness had jumped up a notch that was for sure.

"Yeah…sorry," he winced.

He put himself in reverse gear and began backing out of her room, shoes squeaking ridiculously as he went.

"I told my dad you weren't a quitter. Guess I got that wrong."

That stopped him in his tracks. Silence fell on the over-heated hospital room.

"What did you just say?"

"I'm recovering from a bullet wound over here, so I'm gonna assume you actually heard me rather than waste more energy I don't have repeating myself."

Castle cocked his head to one side. "Did he tell you I was coming?"

She nodded.

"Did he explain why?"

She nodded and smiled.

"No." Castle paused, he wouldn't risk a misunderstanding at this juncture. Clarity, always clarity from now on. "No. Tell me _exactly_ what he said."

Kate drew a slow breath in. "I asked Rick to come and talk you out of leaving the hospital," she parroted, even deepening her voice to mimic her dad. "I'm sorry. It was a stupid plan. But I was desperate, Katie. Go easy on him if he shows up, okay? Guy means well."

"You remember it word for word? Or you're paraphrasing?"

She raised one eyebrow. He knew what that meant.

"I see the pain meds haven't affected your memory then." He wondered what else she might remember.

"Yeah, so you can go now. No need to call my dad. I'm sure he's already on his way over here with my stuff."

Castle's whole body stiffened. "Wait. So you're _still_ set on that crazy plan to leave the hospital and head off _God_ knows where to do _what_ , Kate? _Lick_ your wounds?"

She blinked at him, stunned into silence by his boldness, his audacity in criticizing her. They never spoke to one another like this: with such honesty and frankness. Well, they had started too, or he had, and then she had told him they were over. But when did he ever listen to her? They were over and he still came to save her the night Montgomery died. Still, this was not what she'd bargained for when her dad had 'fessed up. She had expected him to scarper from the hospital in relief, smoke rising from his fancy, Italian loafers.

She summoned all the energy she had left, which wasn't much if she was being honest with herself. "How dare—"

Castle felt the pit of fear in his stomach bloom into righteous anger. "How _dare I?_ I'll tell you how. Because I watched you almost die in my arms in the cemetery that day, Beckett. Because I held my fingers over your beating heart while blood welled up around them. Because I _care_ too much to let you be this reckless with your own health…with _your life_ …"

"Oh, you _care,_ do you?" Her tone mocked him, but there was real fear in her eyes, even as she goaded and pushed him away.

"Yes, I care," he said hoarsely, his voice catching with emotion. "I didn't risk my own life to save yours just to watch you put yourself in danger, again."

"I didn't ask you to!" she fired back, the strain of being so forceful showing on her face.

He quieted then, settling himself, and hopefully Kate, back down to a volume and level of decorum more suited to a hospital bedside conversation. "No. You didn't. But that's what you do for the people you love. You step up, Kate. That's what I'm doing now. And you can deny it all you want, but you'd do the same for me. I know you would."

And with that he turned back to his phone, hit the number on the screen and waited for it to connect. "I have a quick call to make. But I'll be right back," he promised, before leaving the room. "Don't go anywhere," he threw over his shoulder.

He blew out a breath in relief when, at the last second, he saw her roll her eyes in annoyance and, if he was lucky, resignation.

"Jim? Jim, hi, it's Rick. I'm at the hospital. No. No it's okay, she told me already. But I'm here and it's going to be fine. You can stand down. I'll call you later," he informed Beckett's dad, shutting down his questions and interruptions so that he could handle this like the adult, the partner, like the better man he so terribly wanted to be. "I promise. I can handle it," he assured Jim Beckett once more. "Go out, get lunch, take a walk in the fresh air…you need a break, Jim. I've got this," he added, forcing himself to feel as if he had, that his self-belief could carry him through and become the truth if only he tried hard enough.

When he went back into her room, Kate had her eyes closed and her head was resting against the right-hand wing of the armchair. She appeared to be sleeping. Quietly, he closed the door behind him and tiptoed inside.

"Well?" she asked, without opening her eyes. "Is he on his way?"

Castle frowned. "How did you know I was calling your dad?"

"Who else would you call? Lanie's not gonna help you with your hare-brained scheme. The boys—"

"Why not? What's so hare-brained about persuading someone to stay in hospital until their own doctors think they're well enough to leave?"

"And then what?" she fired at him, and the fear was back in her eyes, smoky and desperate.

Castle shook his head as he drew closer. "I don't understand?"

"What's your big plan if I stay here a few more days? What then?"

He ran a hand through his hair, thinking on his feet. "Then…then we figure out some place safe for you to go."

"See!" she declared triumphantly, wincing when her exclamation tugged at something deep and sore. "You don't have a plan."

He began to pace back and forth. "We…we get you settled near a rehab facility, we make you strong again, then we hunt these bastards down and we put them away for good." He turned to face her. "That enough of a plan for you?"

"Oh, you're gonna do all that? You and whose army?" she scoffed. "And why, for God's sake, Castle? I've got a target on my back. You think Alexis is going to want one on yours, too? Why would you even consider putting yourself at risk like that?"

He brushed these issues aside as if they were mere grains of sand. "I told you already."

He didn't want to upset her more than he already had. She looked exhausted from the effort of berating him. Her skin had a gray-yellowish pallor that seemed more than unhealthy and she was so thin that her gown hung on her like a burlap sack on a scarecrow.

"Tell me again. I want to hear you say it," she challenged, and in her eyes he could see the deep, mocking belief she held that he would be too afraid to say those words out loud, not now that she was conscious and out of immediate peril. He could see that she believed there were at least a half-dozen reasons circling his brain as to why now was not a good time, not least of which was the fact that, as far as she was aware, he believed she still had a boyfriend.

But Castle felt differently now. He had said it once and their world had not imploded as a result. In fact, she was still here, fighting him tooth and nail, and that was a good sign in itself.

So he took a breath and jumped. "I'm doing this because I love you. Okay? I love you, Kate Beckett, and I want what's best for you, and sometimes…"

He broke off, scrubbed his hands down over his unshaven face. The rasp of his palms over his stubbled jaw could be keenly heard in the quiet of the hospital room.

"Go on," he heard a faint voice say.

He cleared his throat and faced up to her again. "Sometimes you don't always know what's best for you."

She was chewing her lip, tension in the muscles of her tiny frame. "And you do?" she asked, deadpan. There was little emotion in her voice. Even after everything he'd just said, she seemed unmoved. But then he looked at her face and saw the tears silently sliding down her hollowed-out cheeks and dripping off her chin. He saw their glossy tracks reflecting the harsh overhead lighting and he saw the rawness in her eyes, the fear and the longing.

He shook his head. "Not all the time, no. I'm human. I make mistakes. But in this instance," he nodded, "I believe I do."

It took a long moment of stony silence to break through, and when it did, it wasn't the response he'd been anticipating, but he would take it over being ordered to leave any day.

"Help me into bed?" she asked in the softest voice, so pale and vulnerable that it made him physically ache.

It was the only concession he was going to get today, and he was by her side in a flash.

"I hope they tied the back of your gown, Beckett," he joked, his arm around her birdlike frame, holding her up with all the effort required for dust. "Wouldn't want you flashing the nurses' station," he said, as he gingerly turned her around and helped her up into the papery mattress.

A watery laugh was all the response she could summon. Her body felt warm and bony, pressed up again his side. She had to have lost at least seven pounds since she'd been in here, maybe even as much as ten, he estimated, and that worried him almost as much as the healing wound in her chest. She had already been too thin, a drip, drip over months and years, all the stress and the setbacks of Coonan and Royce, and then losing Montgomery, hitting her appetite and her psyche hard.

When he paused to look at her again, she seemed depleted by her efforts to bully him into leaving her alone. This made him sad. There was no victory to be celebrated here. He didn't want her meek and acquiescent simply because she was incapable of anything more. He loved her spark and her snark, the bite of her sarcasm, her quick wit and her spunk. He loved how she challenged him more than any woman ever had, making him think, forcing his natural optimism and ebullience to balance out her cynicism and reticence. Yin and yang they truly were.

"You okay? Can I get you anything?" he asked, once he'd smoothed the blankets over her legs and fussed with the drape of the IV down the side of the bed.

Listlessly, she shook her head and so, with a heavy heart, he made to leave.

"Would you stay with me?" she asked, halting his steps once he was halfway to the door.

Castle turned back. The tiny rubber treads on the soles of his loafers stuck to the vinyl flooring and he had to move his feet to free them. "Stay?" he asked, as if bewildered by this simple request or by the single syllabled word, itself.

She bit her lip as she nodded. Then she held out her hand to him, letting it drop in exhaustion immediately and patted the flat expanse of blanket beside her too-thin legs. "I have something important to tell you."

She paused for only a beat – no false drama, no big buildup, just a simple need for air - and then she said, "I broke up with Josh."

Castle batted his hand, dismissively. "Oh, that. Old news."

Her eyes grew larger in her gaunt face, cartoon-size like Bambi. "My dad told you that? I'll kill him."

Castle laughed. "Hey, he had to give me some incentive to come all the way up here," he teased, right before she winded him with the real surprise of the day.

"I thought you loved me." Her pale cheeks colored as she said these words, but she had said them. She had said them aloud for the first time. That acknowledgement was massive progress in itself.

"I thought you weren't listening," he retorted, feeling his heart begin to stampede, though he hid it well, as well as she did.

"No, that's your job," she joked, letting her head sink deep into the pillows, as though heavy and uncontrollable as a rock on a string.

"So…you heard me?" he asked quietly, sobered now, serious.

"Both times," she admitted, her smile weak but sweet.

"Today?"

"Yes, and before. At Montgomery's funeral," she clarified for him.

"I wasn't sure. You were…fading pretty fast." He swallowed thickly at the terrible memory of that day, forcing the images, the smell, and the panic out of his mind to focus on the here and now, where they were both unquestionably alive.

"I'm sorry I lied to you before."

"I forgive you. You get a pass this one time. You've had a lot to deal with these last few weeks."

Her smile was grateful and sincere. "Thank you, Castle. Yeah, you could say that," she admitted, her free hand placed carefully across her chest.

They looked at one another for a long moment, before Castle grinned and said, "I can't believe you heard me." His face was filled with delight and relief, joy that they were finally able to have this conversation, that she wasn't figuratively running away.

Kate looked at him fearlessly when she said, "Seems I wasn't the only one who heard."

At this Castle began to fidget, his eyes darting around the room, looking anywhere but at her. "Yeah, your dad said. I'm sorry about that." He rubbed the back of his neck in discomfort, knowing how much she valued privacy above all.

What she said next astonished him, and so it took him a second or two to comprehend the import of what she was saying.

"Don't be sorry. You made me fight, Castle. Your words...what you said...you made me really want to live…to stick around."

He sank down into the armchair beside the bed with an exhausted kind of relief and then he took her hand. "I'm glad. Beckett, I'm so glad. I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner."

Her eyelashes fluttered, wanly. "I don't think I would have been ready to hear it anyway."

He nodded thoughtfully, absorbing this truth. "Then I'm glad my timing didn't suck for once and that this time it made a difference."

She made a tutting sound, scolding him gently with the last of her remaining energy. He felt her squeeze his hand with the slightest additional pressure. "You always make a difference. You make a difference to me."

He risked a glance at her face. "When you let me."

"True," she smiled, and it was weak still but lovely to see.

"Please let me help you now, Kate?" he asked, gently. He hid the worst of his pleading inside, keeping his fear that she might refuse him this request to himself.

He watched as she closed her eyes for a second, appeared to fortify herself for some fight or other, and then opened them again, a renewed determination making them glitter like coal.

"Castle, I can't be who you want me to be," she protested. But it was a halfhearted protest, he could see. She wanted him here and he took heart from that.

"Sure you can," he soothed, stroking her fingers as he held onto her hand. "Just keep breathing, keep getting better. You're already all I need you to be. Kate Beckett, star detective of the NYPD." And then after a momentary inspiration, "Or Kate Beckett, porn star. I don't care either way."

He got a laugh for that, and then she hissed and pressed her other hand against her chest, trailing her IV across the sheet.

"Rest," he hushed, making the bold move of brushing her hair back from her face.

She didn't pull away, leaning instead into his touch, and his heart gloried in this simple, instinctive reaction.

"I just need you to be you, Kate. Flaws and all," he whispered, as her eyelashes flickered and she fought to stay with him. "I know what I've got here, and I can wait for as long as you need to be ready. But I'm not letting go," he promised, finally pressing a kiss to her forehead, pouring everything he felt for her into that single, tender caress.


	5. Chapter 5

_A Father's Love_

 _Chapter 5_

Castle came to visit her everyday after that, staying for long stretches at a time, reading to her or napping while she slept in a cot that the nurses set up for him in the corner of her room.

Kate's doctor took him aside as he was leaving that first evening and thanked him for whatever it was he'd said to persuade her to remain under their care until she was officially ready to be discharged. Castle shrugged off the man's thanks, insisting that is was Kate herself who had made the decision. The cot had appeared for him the very next day, "compliments of Doctor Fletcher," the nurse had discreetly informed him out in the hallway, making certain to be out of range of his partner's superhuman hearing.

That was one moment, among many that were to come, when he would feel a better man because of the impact and influence Kate Beckett had upon his life. That he was good to the core was undeniable, but his daughter had previously been the singular inspiration to draw his best traits to the surface, and now he could be grateful for both of them. Some people exist to take and think nothing of it, and some people live to serve and to make others happy. Richard Castle was one of the latter, and he drew immense pleasure from the smile or the chuckle or the comfort he was able to bring his wounded partner during that precious time.

After another six days had passed – days in which he cajoled Kate to eat: high calorie, protein-rich foods that would build her strength and give her energy to begin work on her rehab – the doctor judged her fit for discharge into Castle's care.

They spent valuable time in the hospital getting to know one another on a much deeper level than before, without the pressure of anyone they knew from work or their families watching them while they transitioned from partners and friends into something closer and more solid.

Without discussion, they rid themselves of old boundaries they'd once fought so hard, and it now seemed so pointlessly, to maintain. They talked openly for a change. One or other would ask for clarification whenever they backslid into old habits and subtext reared its confusing head to block the way for clarity. And although still some distance from becoming intimate, Kate's reserve fell away and Castle was able to perform tasks for her that would previously have seemed unthinkable. When the nurses weren't around to help her to the bathroom, he would escort her to the en suite and stand guard outside the unlocked door in case she fell or needed assistance with anything. He held her hand and wrapped his arm around her waist as she took painfully slow steps from her room to the end of the corridor, rubbing her aching back and tense shoulders when she sank down to rest on the edge of her bed afterward. He smoothed lotion into her hands and arms to counteract the drying effects of the hospital's overheated environment, and he massaged her feet late at night to distract her from the phantom post-surgery pains zipping through her chest as nerves and muscles knit back together.

His reward for all of this was that she allowed him to see her vulnerability, that she permitted him to stay when she was at her weakest or felt her sickest, that she let him care for her without complaint because to do so did them both good. Finally they agreed on that – they had become a team, far stronger in their little unit of two. Better together from now on, than apart with her reserve and dignity preserved, which would have been to her ultimate detriment. He still averted his eyes when necessary, kept his touching to a minimum, maintained a level of respect for her that he had no idea Kate found a little frustrating. He wanted her to come to him when she was ready. He would not push, he dare not ruin this. He had no idea that his partner craved his touch as much as he yearned to feel her warm skin under his hands. But she was healing, and they had time. He felt that they had time.

They watched trashy TV together and griped their way through the local and world news, arguing over politics, scoffing at the unreal life ideas peddled by the vast tribe of New York morning show co-anchors, with their fashion segments, gadgets, and their perkily-delivered "tips and strategies" for everything from money management to child-rearing; fun pleasures their busy lives never normally allowed time for. Silly as it seemed, hours spent like this brought them closer still.

While in the hospital, they also passed a good portion of their time making a plan for where Kate might want to go once she was well enough to return home. Castle vetoed the cabin up front, and for a time Kate fought him, so stubborn and desperate was she to retain some control over her independence. But after much wrangling, truth telling, and a little sulking, they settled on the loft. With its secure, manned entrance, elevator access, everything spread out on one level, proximity to the hospital should they need it, and access to an excellent physical therapist who could, at least initially, make home visits, it seemed like the safest, most comfortable option in the short term.

Secretly, Castle harbored dreams of moving them out to the Hamptons for the fresh air and the beach, to see sunshine on Kate's pale skin as she lay on the deck or swam in his pool, to hear her laughter ring out as they chased the waves or collected shells on the shoreline. But he kept that hope tucked up his sleeve for a time, a little down the road, when she might have adjusted to this new relationship they were just beginning to grow into. He could take baby steps. He'd waited this long for his dreams to come true. He was a patient man and she was worth it, he now knew that without any doubt.

Eventually, it was decided that Kate would take Castle's bedroom at the loft and he would sleep in the guest room upstairs. She had eyed him closely when he'd suggested this. He'd just confessed to being in love with her, and in all their years of working together his attraction to her, and hers to him for that matter, had not exactly been a state secret. But Castle was being careful, respectful. Kate would have a lot to cope with, both mentally and physically, when she got out. She smiled inside as she watched him display levels of maturity and self-restraint she'd never have believed him capable of in their early days of working together. But Castle was taking cues from all he'd learned about Kate over time, and privacy and dignity were two of her personal watch words.

This assessment was reinforced just as keenly by time spent talking things over with Kate's dad during early visits to the hospital that week, when she would doze off a lot of them time and the two men were left to keep one another company for quiet stretches. The last thing she needed was for him to push any emotional or relationship agenda at this point. There would be time enough for their lives to change in greater ways once the dust surrounding her shooting had settled and her body began to heal itself. He could wait as long as it took. The gains they'd made already kept him up at night, a perpetual hum of excitement for life buzzing through his veins. He felt stupidly grateful to be alive, and he thanked the universe everyday for Jim Beckett and his staunch belief and unfailing trust that Castle could make a different in his daughter's life.

As for the rest of the clan, Alexis was away in L.A. for the summer staying with her mother. Though this was a fairly recent decision, Castle kept his daughter's hastily devised plan to make herself scare to himself. His mother would mostly be spending her days and nights with her latest paramour. Mercifully, they would have the apartment to themselves.

* * *

He arrived bright and early to pick her up on the morning of her discharge – or Project Break-Out, as they had dubbed it. When he reached her room, he found her sitting in the armchair once more, as he had done a week ago, only this time she was dressed.

He smiled to see her wearing actual street clothes. "Someone's eager to leave this Fun Palace," he joked, but her serious expression never wavered.

"Can you sit for a second?" she asked, nodding towards the edge of the unmade bed.

Castle dumped the bag he was carrying and nodded. Worry knotted his insides. He'd been waiting for the other shoe to drop. Happiness like this didn't last forever. He'd just hoped to get Kate home and settled before their next hurdle presented itself. But he bluffed his way through his nerves, giving her a confident smile as he obediently sank down onto the hospital bed. "Sure. What's up?" he asked, pressing his hands together between his knees to stop them from shaking.

"What are we doing?"

"We're busting you out of here," he joked, trying for a laugh, a smile, anything to lighten the deadly cloud of seriousness marring her face.

"Not that. I mean what are _we_ doing?"

He knew exactly what she was asking – this was Beckett, always looking for the problem before it arose. "We're taking you home to heal. We've talked about this, Kate. We both agreed this was the best plan."

She shook her head. "I…I'm fine with that. I'm on board. I'm talking about us. What are we doing, Castle?"

"Well, I wouldn't dare speak for you, but I'm…"

What was he doing?

"Yes?" she pressed, leaning forward in the chair.

"I'm trying to be there for you. However you need me to be right now."

"And what about _you,_ Rick? What do you need?" She watched his face, her soulful, hazel eyes roaming over every inch, looking for clues, searching out trouble.

"I need to see you well again. That is my first and only priority right now."

"That's commendable, but—"

He cut in. "Kate, where is this coming from? What exactly are you worried about?"

"I'm worried about you. Castle, I _know_ you. It must be killing you not to fuss over me, not to touch me…maybe even kiss me?" She blushed a pretty shade of pink as she admitted this. "You won, you know. It's okay to celebrate."

"I won?"

He frowned, but she was smiling.

"The fair maiden?"

He cleared his throat. "I…I don't understand." Kate Beckett referring to herself as a fair maiden was astounding for starters.

She sighed a happy sigh. "We're leaving here together. _Together,_ Castle. You know you can hold my hand, right? And you can smile if you want. I don't even mind if you punch the air a little. Okay, once. I don't mind if you punch the air once." She chuckled.

"You don't?" Castle began to smile too.

"No. Because I want you to be happy. You make me so happy."

"I do?"

" _Yes,_ " she grinned, looking a little silly. "And if I'm not so good at showing you right now, I apologize. I've been a little preoccupied with trying to heal. But I will get better."

"Of course you will," he reassured her, though Kate could see they were speaking at odds with one another.

"No. I mean better at this."

She beckoned him closer, so he slipped down off the bed, came to the edge of her chair and crouched down on one knee in front of her. "I will," she smiled, tugging on his jacket lapel, glancing at his lips before leaning forward to kiss him.

She slid a hand into his hair and cupped his ear with her other fingers, moaning when their lips met. Castle had to fight the urge to haul her into his lap and carry her back to her hospital bed then and there. The sweet, gentle caress of her tongue seeking his, and her lips, soft as velvet, claiming his startled mouth, was abruptly interrupted when they heard the sharp clearing of a throat behind them.

When Castle rose to his feet, he turned to find an amused-looking Jim Beckett hovering in the doorway with a 'cat that got the cream' grin on his face.

"Am I interrupting something?" the lawyer asked.

Their "yes" and "no" answers had him chuckling. "Good to see you're both on the same page, as usual," Jim Beckett quipped.

"Hi, dad," Kate grinned at her father, blotting her kiss-swollen lips on the back of her hand. Her face was a little rounder than it had been a week ago, and though not exactly glowing with health yet, there was an entirely new and luminous light in her eyes for reasons her dad took some pride in having helped along.

"Hey, Katie," her father smiled back, leaning down to kiss her on the forehead. "Rick," he nodded, warmly shaking Castle's hand. "All ready to go, I see."

"She's been dressed since 8 o'clock this morning," the nurse who'd arrived with a wheelchair informed them.

"Tattle-tale!" Kate teased the nurse, who clucked and chuckled at the gentle banter.

While Kate dealt with the necessary paperwork, Jim and Castle stepped out into the hallway to make some space in the crowded hospital room.

"I can't thank you enough for getting her to agree to all of this," Jim told the writer.

"It was my pleasure," Castle replied. "Getting her well again, helping her to take care of herself...that's in all of our interests."

"I know she can be proud…too proud for her own good sometimes, but she listens to you. She respects you, son."

Castle smiled, a little embarrassed by this effusive praise from Kate's father. "Took a while, but I think we're getting there."

"And it's more than respect. I hope you know that, too," he said, clapping Castle on the back. "She doesn't always say what she's feeling, but—"

Before Jim Beckett could go into any more detail, Kate was wheeled out into the hallway.

She eyed them both suspiciously. "What are you two ladies gossiping about?"

"Nothing," they answered in sync.

"God that must be how we sound to Ryan and Esposito. No wonder they think we're disgusting," Kate groaned to her partner.

"Disgustingly _cute,_ " Castle corrected, earning a laugh from Jim Beckett.

Her father rubbed his hands together. "Right. I'll just go get the car. I'll bring it around front. Take your time," Jim told Kate and Castle.

"So?" Castle waggled his eyebrows once they were alone. "You ready to blow this joint, Detective?"

"You bet," she nodded, smiling as she took his hand and stretched up to meet the kiss he leaned down to gently press against her lips.

Further down the hallway, in the shadow of a doorway, stood Dr. Josh Davidson. As the heart surgeon watched this touching scene, he crossed his arms, slowly shook his head, and then turned on his heel and walked the other way.

Kate adjusted her purse on her knee and released the brakes on her wheelchair, eager to get moving. When nothing happened, she turned to glance up at her partner to see what was holding them up.

"You comin', Castle?" she asked. "Let's go home."

Castle whipped his head around, smiled down at her and nodded. "Sounds perfect, Beckett. Yeah, let's get you home," he agreed, giving her shoulder a squeeze.

"Let's go home," he muttered to himself again as they pushed off down the hallway.

Before he turned the corner, he couldn't resist one final backward glance at the departing figure of his former nemesis. Seemed Kate was right all along, and they would make it out to Long Island, sooner than he'd ever dreamed possible, to lie side-by-side on the warm sand, listening to the waves crashing on his East Hampton beach. He _had_ won the fair maiden, and so that made today the beginning of their happy ever after.

 _The End_

* * *

 _Thank you for reading. Happy 4th July Weekend if you're celebrating. Be safe._


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